The Roads We Travel
by jambajunkie
Summary: A collection of one-shots depicting moments in the shared lives of Vector Hyllus and the female Imperial Agent.
1. Chapter 1

The Roads We Travel is a collection of one-shots depicting significant moments in the shared lives of Vector Hyllus and the female Imperial Agent.

Disclaimer: Bioware owns everything.

* * *

Vector was nervous.

He'd been initially pleased when the agent had agreed to accompany him to the Killik celebration, but now he wondered if it was too much, too soon. Since he'd joined the agent's crew, she'd always exhibited a genuine curiosity about the nest, and he'd never sensed from her the acrid whiff of disgust and derision that he'd sometimes get from Kaliyo's direction. It was rare, and one of the reasons why he trusted her so fully, so quickly. But as they stepped into the tunnel that led to the Iesei nest dens, he found himself searching her scent and aura for signs of fear, discomfort, regret. She was completely his responsibility here.

She was looking around as they walked, as was her usual habit of taking complete inventory of her surroundings. The damp, dark tunnel was a relief after traveling through the unrelenting heat of the Tatooinian desert. The tunnel was kept alit by bioluminescent globules that would enable her to see where she went relatively well, despite the fact that her eyesight was inferior to all the others, both Killik and Joiner. They travelled together with the emissaries from Oroboro in a cloud around them, buzzing excitedly at the prospect of contact with the long-lost nest.

A little while in, they were greeted by a group of Iesei – several attendant Killiks flanked by four warriors and two female Joiners, the latter of whom stepped forward and gestured to the agent. Would the Dawn Herald's companion please wait in the side den? She glanced at him, amused – normally it was she who took the lead, and he the one being shuttled off to wait in side rooms while she made reports, seduced nobles, sliced computer terminals. "Of course," she replied to the Joiners, and they led her away. She looked back at him uncertainly once and he gave her a nod of reassurance.

Later, after returning from the initial ceremonial greetings and dances, his heart full with the joy of reuniting with long-lost kin, and the hive mind swelling noisily with exultation, he found her waiting in that same room, clothed in a silken garment, chatting with the two Joiners from before. As he moved into the room the Joiners bowed to him and departed. She turned to him.

"They asked me to put these on for the celebration," she explained. "A gift of goodwill from the nest. I didn't want to refuse."

He smiled at her in approval. "We're pleased that you accepted the gift, agent. Do you like it?"

She smiled, fingering the fine silk, and with an unexpected grin, twirled around so that the skirts swirled around her hips. The Joiners had clothed her in fine blue silk, with swirling patterns down the bodice. It was an honor, indeed, and a rare luxury – blue ink was generally exceedingly difficult to come by. On Alderaan the only suitable flowers bloomed in the very high mountaintops in just the first weeks of spring, and he had no idea where the Iesei nest found similar resources on Tatooine, which was all desert as far as he could see.

Freed from the constraints of her uniform, the agent looked girlish and ethereal, a far cry from the lithe, fearless warrior that had single-handedly defeated a Sith Lord. As she laughed, flushed and a little dizzy from her spin, he discovered that a line of fastenings had been left undone in the back. He wondered if the Joiners had left it that way purposefully, having undoubtedly sensed the courtship pheromones that he seemed unable to help exuding whenever around her. Sometimes Killiks had a strange sense of humor.

It hadn't escaped her notice either – and as she approached him, she got that coy little look that he'd come to expect when they were alone.

"You don't mind helping me finish up, would you?" she asked with a playful smirk, turning around and exposing the back of the garment.

That open sliver gave him a tantalizing view of the smooth line of her neck and back. All that spinning had stirred the cavern air, filling the space with her unique scent. He took that scent in, savoring it for a too-short moment, before reaching forward towards her garment. "Of course not, agent," he replied.

Slowly, he closed them for her, watching with regret as that sliver of exposed skin grew smaller with each closed fastening as he worked his way up. He could feel the flare of heat of her own skin in response to his breath upon her skin. And the scent of her body was changing too, in response to his own….

Suddenly unsteady, he stepped back. The task was complete, and he moved away, before turning to offer her his arm.

"Come with us," he said. "We'll escort you to the celebration."

* * *

The agent was drunk.

Vector knew she must have been trained to withstand the effects of alcohol, that she could take Kaliyo in a drinking contest, that even after two dozen shots of the strongest Corellian rum she could still shoot a man's head off at three hundred paces. But membrosia was alien and strong, and after all else was said and done, she was still a small woman. Recognizing the membranous containers as the same pale orbs that he'd once given her in the Oroboro caverns, she'd trustingly accepted the offerings that the hundreds of drones seemed to continually provide. And as the Killiks gathering around them began to move in the first dance, arraying themselves in intricate, shifting patterns, she began to become rather giggly.

It was a strange side to the agent, and one he couldn't help but observe with amusement.

At one point, at some unspoken signal, the Killiks began to sing. It was something he was used to, of course, and he recognized a variation of an ancient welcoming song that was often sung at the Oroboro nest. He joined in, raising his voice to harmonize with the others. The agent's gaze snapped to him immediately and she listened, enthralled, her head swaying slightly to the uneven rhythm. As the music swelled, punctuated by the clicking mandibles of the drones and the pounding of the warriors' wooden staves, she let out a laugh of joy. He couldn't help but smile back at her; it was as if she understood the delight of the nest, as if she could hear and commune with all those around her, celebrating with them. And perhaps, he thought, she could. Her aura was sparkling with pleasure.

The song ended, and the caverns grew suddenly quiet. In the center, he saw Daizanna of the Iesei stepping atop a raised flat stone. "The membrosia runs in golden rivers," she said, gesturing around the room. "Let this be a night to remember forever, a night of celebration, when two long lost kin found one another once more."

There was a loud cry of celebration from the Iesei nest, answered by a call from the emissaries of his own. And then the formations of Killik bodies dissolved, as each of the Oroboro was approached and claimed by an Iesei for partner dances. Fewer in number, the members of his nest swiftly paired off, and he saw Daizanna approaching him with a Killik warrior beside her.

The agent straightened as Daizanna and the warrior bowed to them in respect. "Our nest would be honored if you would share in the dance," Daizanna told the agent, as the warrior inclined his head towards her.

She looked up at Vector. There was excitement in her eyes, and a question, and he gave a slight nod in response. "The honor is mine," she replied, bowing toward her would-be partner. And together they were off.

He knew Daizanna had initially come to him with the intention of claiming him for the dance, but instead the other Joiner took a seat next to him. Vector acknowledged her, but found that it was difficult to take his eyes off the silk-clad form of the agent. She looked hesitant initially, but as her partner demonstrated the steps, she caught on quickly, as she always did. Soon she was adding her own little flourishes – little spins here and there, a flutter of the hands, delicately pointed toes. Every so often, the skirt's movement revealed flashes of slim ankles and strong calves. She had clearly once been trained in dance, from the way she held herself and the fluid grace of her body. He wondered for a moment who she might have been, if she were not already who she was.

"She would make a good Joiner," Daizanna remarked.

A Joiner? The agent? For some reason the thought chilled him and he bit back a response that was sharper than intended. From what Daizanna knew of the agent, he could understand the conclusion. The agent was blatantly unafraid, and more importantly, accepting of them all. And there, as she danced among a hundred Killik drones, she looked like she belonged.

But then he thought of her at night on the ship recently, curled up asleep, her sheets tangled around her, her aura aching as she whimpered. After he'd found her unconscious that time, he'd monitored her often, and noticed that sometimes her electric aura would flash jagged crimson edges. She was constantly reassuring them all of her wellbeing, but he was never convinced because he could sense her fear. It put the whole crew on edge, this unspoken and unspeakable threat that dogged their leader. More than once he'd stood a midnight vigil outside her door, hearing her song being smothered by her panicked dreaming. He could not help her except to ensure that she awoke every time she sank into that troubled sleep to face the secrets she kept from them all.

Too many secrets. To surrender them all, and her mind along with it – no, not the agent. He would never force it upon her, and he knew she would never choose to Join.

"Perhaps," he replied diplomatically. "It would be her choice."

Daizanna chuckled quietly. "You care for her, and she is similarly protective of you."

He knew she was referring to that little scene on the ship, when the agent had immediately objected to Daizanna's invitation. _You're getting a little familiar with Vector for my comfort, _she'd warned testily, with a little indignant spike of energy in her aura. It always touched him when she was that way, so protective. She was always snapping at anyone who insulted him or expressed disgust at their friendship; he'd even overheard some rare terse words between the agent and Kaliyo once. Vector knew how unnerving he could be, and he never took the judgments of strangers personally, but sometimes it was nice to have a champion. "The agent is protective of all that she considers her own," he said.

Daizanna looked at him pointedly but said nothing further, and Vector knew that the other Joiner was not fooled.

Soon it was the end of the dance, and the warrior was bowing to the agent, expressing esteem to a worthy partner. She bowed right back and looked back at Vector for approval. In that moment, as he raised his hand in a casual wave, Vector was captivated by the look of her: the dim lights painting her in soft colors, her own joy glowing in her expression. Her gaze did not leave him as she walked back, the Killik warrior a silent escort. He barely noticed Daizanna respectfully taking her leave.

And then the agent held out her hand. "I think you owe me a dance now, Vector," she laughed, that lovely voice sending a thrill up his spine. "You've been spending enough time peeping at me from the shadows."

With her hand came that scent again. He closed his eyes for a moment. He could always discern her so easily, as if she were a single ray of light in the darkness, as if he were not surrounded by hundreds of bodies and it was only the two of them standing in the cargo bay of the ship. She smelled so alluring, so sweet. Dancing would undoubtedly make it worse.

He took her hand and looked up at her, a hint of mischief warming his gaze. He heard her sharp intake of breath as he bent down to brush the back of her hand with his lips. It was a courtly gesture reminiscent of Alderaan. If he had to admit it to himself, it was also somewhat selfish, as now he had the taste of her on his lips to savor throughout the night. With some pleasure he noted the slight flush of her cheeks, and discerned that lovely heat again. He stood then, her hand held firmly in his.

"As you wish."

* * *

It was nearly too much.

He'd expected dancing with her to be a delightful torment to his senses, as she moved elusively in and out of his proximity as required by the steps. But he hadn't anticipated the reaction.

As her body and scent and aura wove around him, he was devastatingly aware of the taste of her on his lips. Suddenly he felt his mind begin to cloud with an unfamiliar fever. Here in the cavern, surrounded by Killik hormones, it was becoming difficult to distinguish between his individual attraction to her and the universal directive of the nest to reproduce. The hive mind studied and approved of the curve of her waist, the swell of her hips. His senses were inflamed – her heartbeat had quickened and her breathing had become shallow with the exertion of the dance, a shining bead of perspiration was making its way down the curve of her neck, and there it was again – that intoxicating shift in her scent. Her body was unconsciously reacting to his own pheromones, and he experienced a thrill of anticipation – underscored by the nest.

It was the first time he'd experienced this. He'd never courted or shown remote interest in another female since Joining the nest and becoming Dawn Herald. There were no memories of this from the other, typical Joiners in Oroboro; with them, those impulses had been more or less eliminated once their consciousnesses had been subsumed by the hive mind. And normally, when he and the agent traveled together, the proximity wasn't an issue; they were always on the move, often fighting to survive, and Vector had always been able to focus on the task at hand. The time he'd spent physically away from the nest had allowed him to better discern the difference between the hive mind and his own – and exercise judgment about what to prioritize. But here, he was reunited with hundreds of his kind. And caught within the frenzy of the dance, the essence and flavor of her body teased him relentlessly, and it was maddening. He was aflame – it was nearly too much.

But attuned to her as he was, he gradually began to notice that every so often, there was something flickering in her aura – something he finally identified as a fleeting sense of confusion. That slight tone of discord in her song sent clarity washing over him like a cold shower. He focused on her aura and frowned with concern – she seemed to be hazily aware of her unnaturally heightened reaction to him, and her mind was beginning to emit warning signals. Over time he'd learned to read the subtle hints in her aura. She was becoming slightly discomfited, but the cheerful haze of membrosia seemed to be dampening her worries, keeping her from expressing her concerns.

The membrosia – that was something else he was beginning to worry about. Throughout the evening they had been interrupted often by the drones, bearing more of the membranous orbs filled to the brim, which she accepted with her usual grace. Normally a few quaffs of the fragrant, milky liquid were harmless, resulting in increased energy and mild intoxication. But too much of the substance would eventually trigger the neurobiological changes that preceded the Joiner transformation.

The thought brought forth unsettling suspicions about the Iesei nest's true intentions in keeping her so plied with drink, and cast a darker shadow on Daizanna's earlier sentiments. It was troubling, more so because once upon a time it would not have been his concern. Back on Alderaan, his own nest had swiftly identified her as a possible asset. Vector would not have questioned it then, but now, he knew immediately that he would not allow it. He felt abruptly grateful for the freedoms he retained as Dawn Herald – he alone could keep her safe.

Suddenly anxious to get the agent back home to the ship, Vector reached out to steady her. "Agent," he began. "You've done well tonight, and we are impressed. But the hour grows late, and we think that you should consider retiring."

"Oh?" She peered up at him, eyes half-closed already. He was briefly reminded of a chick he'd once rescued as a child, long ago, and of how the little bird would look the same way, heavy-lidded, when it was drowsy.

"Accompany the Joiners, if you wish; morning comes soon," he murmured to her, nudging her towards a group that looked ready to leave. He recalled the restless nights she'd had during the past week. Yes, she had had enough.

"We were up all night dancing?" she asked. Then, with a little giggle, "I haven't done that since I was a girl."

She'd never brought up her past before without prompting, and for a moment, he was tempted to tease it from her. Disconnected from the hive mind, she was closed to him in so many ways, and denied her life history, he could only wait to let her reveal herself to him day by day. He wondered briefly if anyone had ever really known her – witnessed the adolescent revelry she alluded to, known the child that time and circumstance had shaped into this remarkable woman. But it was too early still – she would likely resent it in the morning, and he didn't want her to withdraw from him when he'd so recently earned her friendship. In time, perhaps she willingly would share more of herself. For now, he wanted simply wanted her to be safe.

"We'll have to hear more about your adolescent adventures at another time," he said a bit regretfully, steering her again towards the departing Joiners. "Go rest now, agent. We'll see you in the morning."

She began to stagger off in the direction of the resting dens, but then looked back at him suddenly with a wide, inebriated grin. "Have I ever told you how handsome you are?" she giggled flirtatiously. And then, like a fourteen-year-old fleeing after confessing her first crush, she turned and skipped off.

He watched her go. Only her scent was left and once more he drew it into himself. Eyes closed, he savored it, exploring and experiencing every particle in the air, and the fading taste of her lingering on his lips. Then he turned and swiftly made his way outside the tunnel. The desert was cool at night, and he took in the fresh, dry air with relief.

Unsettled, he stood in the darkness for a while, eyes closed. His heightened hearing picked up the occasional noises of the local wildlife – the grating chatter of womp rats, somewhere far off. In his mind the nest was similarly restless, buzzing with plans. There was much to do. United with the lost clans, Oroboro was eager to take advantage of its newly combined strength and press forward for expansion. For a moment his mind wandered back his own kind, and an old idea resurfaced – an agreement between the nest and the Empire. Oroboro would not have been enough on its own, but together, the Killik tribes were a force to be reckoned with – and a resource that might tempt the Empire. It would be best for everyone. He would ask the agent what she thought.

And the agent herself…

It had been a long time since Anora, and Vector was no longer sure what to do. But it wouldn't – couldn't be the way it had been this evening, the instinctive responses of the Killik nearly subverting his own judgment and taking over. She had made it clear that she wanted not only the Dawn Herald on her team, but Vector himself. Whatever he would offer her would reflect that – the man and the Joiner. He would have to keep her away from the nest then, for her own safety.

For the first time since his Joining, he felt a pang – not regret for what he had become, but sorrow for what he once might have offered her. He would never be fully human again. And as accepting as she was of him now, he dreaded the moment when she'd inevitably withdraw from him, refusing the Joiner to avoid the hive mind.

But he would accept whatever she would give him – a day, a lifetime, or nothing at all.

When his meditation was finally complete, the sun was beginning to rise, the first hazy rays making an appearance over the horizon. Vector walked the tunnels to the female Joiner sleeping den where the agent lay. Standing just beyond the threshold he sensed her aura – tranquil, dreamless, blue – and felt pleased that finally she'd rested well.

Soon she'd awaken, and he'd take her back to the ship, and they'd be off on their next adventure. His eyes settled on her form near the dark corner of the den. She was curled up on her side, one hand loosely clutching the silken sheets. Even from that distance he could sense her scent, fresh and alluring, calling to him.

Not yet, he thought. But soon. Tomorrow would be a new song.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Bioware owns everything.

* * *

_Keeper: They'll ask what you've discovered, and how we're responding. You will break under torture and confess that the Empire has secret reinforcements en route to Corellia._

_Agent: You're asking me to turn myself over to murderers and brainwashers?_

_Vector: We'll be at your back. We will come out of this._

* * *

She refused to let anyone accompany her.

"I'm the only one who needs to be tortured," the agent had insisted over their combined protests. "No reason for anyone else to subject themselves to it. I'll holo when I'm done, and if I can't make it back myself, I'd appreciate a lift," she said with a terse smile.

"But…are you sure you're going to be alright by yourself? You don't know what they'll do to you!" Ensign Temple looked up to the Cipher like an older sister.

The agent reached out to squeeze the younger woman's shoulder. "Trust me…they can't do anything to me I haven't already suffered," she replied. The ensign's eyes widened a bit.

"Make it convincing, agent," Doctor Lokin instructed from where he stood leaned against the wall. Then his expression softened. "But no more convincing than necessary. Be careful."

"I will," the agent assured them, hoisting her blaster and double-checking her stealth generator. "I'll see you all soon," she promised.

Vector silently accompanied her on the walk from their ship's hangar to the entrance of the spaceport. As they made their way through the makeshift market – tents and stalls hastily set up in wartime – several vendors called out to them, acquaintances they'd made already in their stay in Corellia, and she waved at them briefly. Vector shifted uneasily, sensing the dark pall of her dread hanging over her aura like a raincloud. When they reached the exit, she looked up at him. For a moment she stayed like that, motionless, searching his gaze, before she leaned in to brush his lips, leaving her taste on his mouth. "I have to go, Vector," she said.

He moved forward to take both of her hands, squeezing them, as if lending her his own strength. "We'll be waiting for you." And then he was watching his agent – his wife – moving purposefully away, her slim figure growing ever smaller in the distance.

Standing there, he felt paralyzed with dread. It was difficult to let her walk off into certain danger; they had rarely been separated since he'd joined her crew. He of all people knew what had to be sacrificed for the sake of duty, but he found himself wishing, beyond anything, that there was something he could do – some way he could watch over her while she went off to subject herself to those terrors.

And then, he realized, there was.

In his mind, he called out to the tiny Killik emissaries that lived aboard their ship. It was their first trip to Corellia, and as he made the request, he felt their excitement at being let loose. At his unspoken signal, the tiny swarm flittered off in her direction.

He returned to the ship to wait.

* * *

From his seat on the floor next to the agent's bed, Vector monitored her progress in his mind. Alone, it had taken her some time to successfully infiltrate the hideout, take out all the guards and hijack a speeder to fly to the conspirator airship.

He had not been sure what to expect there, but a party was not it. Through the eyes and ears of the Killiks, he could make out the garish costumes, the sumptuous spreads of food, and the drunken laughter all around. The celebration was ridiculously lavish, reminding him of some of the functions he'd attended on Alderaan before. The air was heavy with alcoholic fumes, and at one point a couple of the Killiks succumbed, falling headlong into a bowl of punch. He could overhear some of the conversation – "The war will see our planet ruined! And we will see the war from above!" one gentleman proclaimed, swaying, drink sloshing and spilling on his shoes – but through the eyes of the emissaries he could detect the muted desperation in each of the partygoers' auras.

The agent herself seemed mystified, wandering from group to group. She was shaking her head – disgust, perhaps, or disbelief – and then she caught sight of a holoterminal across the room, with a familiar projection, and her whole body straightened with purpose. Hunter.

The Killiks sensed the coma gas first. It was slowly seeping from an astromech droid nearby, even as the agent and Hunter were still speaking, trading insults, verbal swipes. With a frenzy born of self-preservation the Killiks collectively flew up into the air to escape the gas, disrupting Vector's view. But he saw enough – saw the sickly green gas suddenly cloud the area in greater quantity, saw the agent collapse against the ground, saw the mercenaries grab her and take her away.

"Vector?"

He snapped back to reality and opened his eyes. Doctor Lokin was standing in the doorway, a layer of residual gray anxiety lacing his aura. "Is everything okay?"

"They have her."

The doctor's expression tightened for a moment with worry before growing suspicious. "How do you know?"

"We sent a small swarm of Killiks to follow her," he confessed tensely. "To watch her when we cannot."

Lokin nodded and regarded him in silence for a moment. Then he turned to leave. "It will not be easy to watch," the doctor said, his voice sympathetic. "But if you tell me what they do to her…I can prepare the medbay."

Vector gave a short bow in gratitude, and after a moment's hesitation, the doctor left, the question lingering in his aura unasked. The Killiks had resumed following her from a distance. The mercenaries were carrying her indoors into a darkened room. Hunter's image was projected from a holoterminal.

With a deep breath, Vector took in the smell of his agent's quarters, her scent heavy upon the bedsheets, mingled with his own. That morning they had dallied late, the agent insisting on massaging him. She'd sat on his back and pressed her warm hands against him, running her palms down and rubbing circles in the tense muscles defined by months of combat with his electrostaff. He'd closed his eyes in bliss, his sensitized skin enjoying each stroke and caress, while his nose perceived the undercurrents of desire coloring her scent. He'd promised to return the favor tonight.

In his mind, he saw the men dumping her into a chair, tying her arms behind her back. Her aura was changing; she was beginning to come to.

Vector braced himself.

* * *

The collective memories of the Oroboro nest spanned centuries, but for Vector, eternity lasted twenty hours and thirty two minutes.

He didn't know what he'd expected. A Cipher agent couldn't be easily tortured into submission – she'd have to appear completely broken. And she was letting them break her. She looked so small against her hulking torturers, and as she flinched and recoiled again and again, the flame of defiance continuing to burn in her eyes, he found that in his mind, he was pleading for her to end it. No, he thought it would never end – the constant blows, the blooming bruises against her pale skin. The taser had been next. And when she continued refusing to cooperate, they'd begun to carve words into her skin with their knives.

At some point after hour ten, even Hunter had stopped watching, his image disappearing from the holoterminal, terse orders lingering in the air.

Doctor Lokin had stopped by occasionally, and Vector had managed to maintain some semblance of tranquility while providing a running list of injuries. Repeated head trauma, bruised – if not broken – ribs, numerous knife wounds. At hour twelve they'd broken her left arm, and now it hung at her side, uselessly. Hour seventeen and the blood loss was taking its toll; she was fading, her aura flickering listlessly.

Twenty hours and thirty two minutes. Finally, she relented. Finally, it was over. And then she passed out.

Vector was on his feet immediately. They were going to leave her in the park – leave her for dead where any Republic soldier might find her. He called for the Doctor and together they grabbed their speeders and raced to her destination.

They found her surrounded by a group of curious sleens, escaped zoo specimens docile from captivity, but which had been nevertheless attracted by the scent of her blood soaking into the ground around her. As the Doctor dispersed the animals, Vector knelt down beside her. She was barely breathing, her song nearly silent, her aura a nearly imperceptible shadow. Lokin pulled out his med scanner to probe her. The initial kolto jolt woke her up and she grimaced.

"Agent?" Vector asked, his voice hoarse with relief. She was here…she was alive. He gingerly brushed the arm that wasn't broken.

Her eyes were swollen shut, dark with bruises. "Vector…" she murmured, recognizing his voice. Reflexively she turned toward him – then cried out as the movement jostled something within her.

"Don't move agent," Doctor Lokin ordered. He turned to Vector. "I can stabilize her, but we need to get her into a kolto tank immediately."

She was in the tank for six more hours. He meditated there, on the ground in front of her. When he lost his concentration, he sat watching the play of her hair, floating in the kolto, noting the skin slowly knitting itself back together, the bruises fading. Her aura was slowly growing stronger. She would be alright. She had done her job.

He was proud of her for having the fortitude to suffer through it. Doctor Lokin and Vector had contacted Keeper after the agent was safely resting in kolto, and Keeper had confirmed that the Star Cabal ranks had successfully taken the bait. Soon it would be time to strike the final blow.

But as he watched the agent's limp body floating in the tank, he could only feel a sort of resignation. He'd always believed in service to the Empire above all, even after Doctor Lokin's discovery that Vector's own Joining had been arranged. Service meant working for the greater good, meant spreading the Empire's influence to improve the lives of others. As a member of the Diplomatic Service, it was easy to believe that because he'd enjoyed his job. He'd loved to travel and see new worlds, loved the process of meeting new people and discerning how their interests might complement his own. He even tolerated the political games, because he'd preferred verbal machinations to physical violence. If he'd had to give up something of his own in the process – it was a small price to pay.

But this…

He couldn't escape the memories now, of her pain and his own helplessness miles away as he watched her being forced to suffer. What she had done had cataclysmic consequences; she could potentially be ending a centuries-old conspiracy that threatened them all. But at each of her screams of pain…he couldn't help but feel betrayed, by Keeper and the Empire and all that they supposedly fought for.

How could anything be worth her suffering?

* * *

When her body finally healed, they moved her to her quarters. After toweling her off, Vector wrapped her in a soft robe and tucked her underneath her blankets. He joined her there, arm loosely wrapped around her waist, nose buried in her hair. The smell of kolto still clung to her, and her hair was still slightly damp from it. There was comfort in the stillness, in the smell of her body and the sound of her breathing, the feeling of her nestled against his body, soft and warm, safe and whole.

After a while, he felt the stirring in her aura that usually preceded her awakening. He caressed her cheek lovingly as she opened her eyes. "Agent," he greeted her. "How do you feel?"

She didn't answer. Instead she simply tucked her head against his chest, wiggling closer. He felt her inhale deeply, knowing she was breathing him in, the same way he often did. There was something viscerally comforting about scent. He felt her emotions bloom into her aura as she hugged him weakly – love, relief, fear, all at once.

She was still exhausted, from her ordeal and from the accelerated healing of the kolto tank. He smelled the tears gathering in her eyes, but she didn't have the energy to sob. Instead, she simply lay cocooned in the blankets and in his arms, letting them trickle down her cheeks to sink into the cloth of his shirt and the surrounding bedspread. The shock of the ordeal was finally beginning to settle and he felt her beginning to tremble. An unsettling darkness had stolen into her aura.

"Vector," she whispered. Her voice was ravaged, hoarse from screaming. He bent over to press a kiss to her throat. "How did you find me?"

She had tensed, unconsciously, and he began to stroke her limbs, massaging her muscles and coaxing her body to relax. "It was more difficult than we had anticipated to let you go alone, agent," he confessed. "We asked a group of Killiks to follow you, so we could watch you."

She sighed. "So you saw everything." He could feel the muscles of her face moving against his skin, and imagined her grimace. "Not one of my better days."

"You did your job," Vector replied. "You should be proud." But in the stillness that ensued, he felt once again the hollowness of that sentiment, the inadequacy of it.

"Killiks. Keeper is so stupid…we should have been letting your friends do the hard work all along." Her tired voice sounded a bit hysterical. "They could have sliced into the Star Cabal's files and changed them. Can Killiks slice?"

She began to shake, and the darkness overwhelmed her aura as the aftershock hit. Again, her body had seized up from the tears and the resistance, as if she were still tied to that chair, braced for the next blow.

"I wish I'd known that you were watching me, that I wasn't alone," she whispered.

Again, he began to stroke her, slowly introducing his touch to her shoulders and back and limbs, as his mouth distracted her with kisses. It took time, but he drew the tension from her body, and he watch as her aura dimmed and calmed, a sign of impending sleep. "We won't leave you alone again," he promised, as she slipped off into her dreams.

It wasn't enough, he thought. But it would have to do for now.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Bioware owns everything.

* * *

_Agent: Tell you what – next chance we have to slip away, we'll find a planet all to ourselves._

_Vector: We'll hold you to that._

And so he did, and here they were.

She'd sent their companions off, telling them that they'd all earned some vacation now that the whole business with the Star Cabal had finally been concluded. Kaliyo had crowed with glee, set a course for Nar Shadaa, and dragged a bemused Ensign Temple with her straight to the cantinas. Doctor Lokin was taking a brief leave to oversee some issues with Project Protean, and SCORPIO – well, they didn't know where the droid had gone ("Undoubtedly to plot our collective demise," Kaliyo volunteered) but she'd promised to return when summoned.

After the last of their companions had departed, the agent had plotted a course for some tiny planet somewhere in the Outer Rim. Not long after, they landed in a clearing near a rainforest. A thick layer of trees blocked much of the sunlight, painting the leafy forest floor in dappled patterns. Flocks of loud, colorful birds squawked overhead. In his mind he dimly registered the far-off approval of the hive – they loved environments like this, teeming with moisture and warmth and life.

As always, he followed her lead, mindful of her steps as she picked her way across the moss-covered rocks, his senses alert for any threat from around them. Eventually she found what she'd been searching for – a cave, the entrance to which was hidden alone the wall of a narrow canyon. He had to duck down to enter, but found that the interior was vast and tall and wide, a little chilly, but dry. To his surprise there was already a set of bedrolls and blankets rolled up in the corner, as well as a stack of firewood.

"You've been busy, agent," he commented.

She looked back at him with uncharacteristically shy smile but said nothing.

Soon a fire blazed merrily near their cave entrance. Admiring her silhouette as she tended the blaze, he felt a sudden rush of affection for her and reached out a hand to draw her close. She grasped his outstretched palm and joined him where he sat on a bedroll before the fire. Together they rested against the cave wall, her head resting on his shoulder while her fingers kneaded his forearm, exploring the muscles toned by the demands of their profession. He took a deep breath and enjoyed the sensations there, paired with the flavor of her electric aura against the back of his tongue.

At length she spoke. "I got your letter," she said. "And I have something for you."

She drew out of her pack a familiar little box. He'd seen it before in her quarters on the ship, a little chest to hold the artifacts of her experiences. As she opened it, he caught a glimpse of some of the contents - a cheap metallic necklace from some night of cantina revelry with Kaliyo, a tiny vial that had once held chemicals from Quesh – and of course, lovingly wrapped in shimmering Killik silk, the stone that he'd given to her the day he'd asked her to marry him. A collection of memories – pieces of her identity.

But what she ultimately handed him was a contraption he hadn't seen before. The memories of the hive gave him an answer. "A Gree mind-link device?" he asked, running his fingers over the strange wires.

Intriguingly he perceived a slight change to her scent, a hint of nerves. "Yes," she answered. "It would allow you to connect with me in my mind – to know me better, more like you know the other Joiners in the hive."

Immediately he understood – and felt a pang of regret for any unease he'd caused her through his letters. She was intensely private, and he hadn't meant to intrude upon that. Once early on, when he'd just joined her crew, he'd asked her to talk about herself. She'd deflected immediately – skillfully, of course. Back then he hadn't yet learned to read the subtleties of her scent and aura, and so he hadn't recognized her discomfort for what it was, but it was evident to him in hindsight. With the events of the last several months in mind, it was clear why she was so protective of herself – and how rare it was for her to open up to him the way she had, to accept him into her life to this extent.

"Agent," he began, stroking a finger along her jaw, "It wasn't our intention to cause you any unease." He gently lifted her chin so that she was looking at him. "We never meant to imply that we were unhappy with what we have. We respect your privacy and cherish every moment we spend with you."

She reached out to curl her arm around his waist. They sat there like that for a moment, holding each other. And then her face broke out into the most beautiful, uninhibited smile. "Vector," she said. She suddenly hugged him against her, squeezing tightly. And when she spoke he thought he heard a little hitch in her voice. Alarmed, he drew back to see her face, senses probing her aura for distress. Was she crying?

"Vector. We're _free._" She threw her head back and laughed. He studied her eyes – they were moist – but she was radiating something, a brilliant, sparking, unrestrained joy that he'd never felt from her before. "There's no more Hunter. No more Cipher Nine. I can do whatever I want…" She leaned towards him and captured his lips in a kiss.

Suddenly he was aware of a change in her scent, and he shuddered. When she was like this it was like lighting a flame in his body, heightening all his senses so that they focused on her. His arms circled her body and he brought her closer, deepening the kiss. As his hand stroked her face, he felt her sigh and relax against him completely.

After a few moments she drew back, looking at him impishly. "Trying to distract me?"

"Never, agent," he responded with a smile. "We know the futility of it."

There it was again, on her face – that brilliant smile. He memorized it. At that moment, against the soft light of the nearby fire, her face was aglow – she looked so beautiful – so _happy_. For a moment he was grateful that his memories would resonate forever in the hive; this image would be there in perpetuity for him to revisit, again and again.

And it finally dawned upon him as well_. _All of it – the tyranny of the Sith Lords, the tension of being hunted by the Star Cabal, even the tense directives of Imperial Intelligence – it was _over. _They were free.

The agent brought forth the Gree device again. "You gave me that lovely stone when you asked me to marry you," she whispered, as she attached one of the nodes to her right temple. "I had nothing to give back to you then. But now," she continued, reaching out to him to connect the remaining node to him, "I give you myself."

He gazed at her as they faced each other, connected by the cable. One more kiss, one more squeeze of her waist, one more deep breath to take in that lovely scent and taste the subtleties of her aura. He couldn't ever get enough of her, he thought. At last, he spoke around the tight feeling in his chest, that tenderness that seemed to grow every minute he spent with her. "Agent…are you sure?"

The agent nodded at him, then indicated a set of subtle switches along the cable. "We can set it to transmit one-way, or both." She set it to transmit one-way – from her to him – then let it hang between them. She nudged him until he lay back against the bedroll, and she rested atop him, head nestled on his shoulder, arm tucked around his waist, the way they often slept together. He loved feeling her like that, all along his body.

"You honor us," he murmured to her. "We love you."

In reply, she kissed him and switched the device on.

* * *

The Gree had been thoughtful when they designed the linking mechanism. The transition happened slowly – a dual-consciousness, a blending of sensations – different from the Joining, not as jarring. Gradually he became aware of her sensations, her feelings – her eyes were closed, she was breathing in his scent from his neck, and little sparks of anxiety played about underneath her heart. Despite her courage, she'd never done this – never shared herself in such a way, never left herself so naked to another's judgment– and she trusted him, but there was an ingrained caution that was difficult to shake.

He experimented a little, running a gentle fingertip down the length of her back. In response she shivered, and he felt the sensation as well. Against him, her body was warm, but her exposed shoulders were a little chilly. He drew the blankets up to cover her, perceiving an answering sense of gratitude from her. Then he leaned down to kiss her, feeling the pressure of his own lips upon her, and the swirling sensations that were blooming in her belly in response to him. He couldn't hold back a little smile. This had potential, he thought.

And then she sighed into their kiss – warm, comfortable, finally at ease – and began to recall.

It was fascinating to be spectator to her memories. The experience reminded him of a firefly in the night, drifting from flower to flower so that its soft glow illuminated each individual blossom for just a moment before moving onto the next. The brightest memories were the most recent, and amidst the haze and confusion of remembered battles, many of her recollections were of him. In her mind he saw the image of his own eyes revealed to her for the first time, felt the sensation of joining with her, heard snatches of their past conversations – ration bars, Falner Oeth, Tapani noble houses. With each memory came a shadow of feeling – a specter of the intrigue she'd felt when she'd first seen him, a ghost of fear when once he'd fallen in battle. A surge of love each time she looked at him.

Inevitably her thoughts drifted to that terrible period of time when she'd been controlled through the programming. She'd explained it to him briefly once, but now he felt the depth of her horror and fear – the fear that she would be forced to turn on her companions, the rolling nausea that punished her each time she'd tried to subvert the programming, the sense of betrayal she'd felt from the Minister of Intelligence for condoning this – and most profoundly, the deep, unrelenting loneliness, the sense that there was nothing she could trust, that she was entirely alone, trapped in her own terrified mind.

He continued along the journey with her, moving back to the snatches of her past life that she could still recall. Childhood was a dim memory, save for a few vivid images. And then her first days in Intelligence training, learning the arts of seduction, infiltration, interrogation – mastering the use of a blaster and vibroknife. She remembered being sent to Hutta – seducing a man to maintain her cover – meeting Kaliyo and thinking that the Rattataki was insane before the two developed a gradual respect for one another.

And then he was in a new, hazy place, a place of dreams and wishes and fears, small and great. They drifted by him like bubbles and he caught little wisps of feeling – she knew it was ridiculous but she'd always wanted a pet to keep on the ship, a loyal little creature to hug when she was alone – she had a fear of injections and an even greater horror of Doctor Lokin's rakghoul form that no number of friendly conversations and opera trips could dispel – she wanted to wear the gemstone he'd given her on a ring, in the open, for everyone to see. She wanted to have his child, one day, but she didn't know – and dreaded to find out – if the experiments wrought upon her by Imperial Intelligence had left her barren – or if he would even want a family.

And finally, her greatest fear – that she would lose her sense of self entirely – and her need for him to safeguard it for her.

It was a beautiful thing, to touch her heart like that. The requirements of her profession were heartbreaking, how she'd appear and then vanish, leaving everything around her changed, but how much a solitary path she walked. It was odd to think of her that way, floating through time and life and space, planet to planet without any strings of attachment, when no matter where he went he was tethered to the mind of the hive. There within her he felt the honest depth of her need for him, how she depended upon his steadiness and loyalty, and how he'd slowly become so vital to her. He felt that swelling feeling of uncertainty again, that fear that she was desperately trying to overcome as she exposed her very core to him.

And then, she gave him her name.

He whispered it back to her. She shivered at the unfamiliarity of it. And then he was in motion. He began to lay kisses on her brow as he stroked her arms and back. He nipped the sensitive skin of her neck – he knew how much she liked to feel his teeth there, and as she made a soft sound in response, he knew the sensation it gave her, the way it awakened responses throughout. Gently he nudged and guided her body until she lay beside him on the bedroll. She'd opened her eyes and now he saw himself through them, gazing down at her, black eyes loving and fathomless.

"Agent," he said. "We love you. Do you trust us?"

He felt a trickle of uncertainty in her aura for a moment, before she clamped down on it and took that leap of faith.

"Yes."

He closed his eyes, reaching deep inside him for the concentration he needed, and suppressed the pheremonic bond with the Killik nest. The hive consciousness receded from his mind. Around him, the Song of the Universe slowly faded.

Cut off from his Killik brethren, he felt abruptly panicked, blind and desperately alone. His muted senses were a shock, as they had been the first time. The surrounding smells were frustratingly elusive traces of what they had been, and everything around him was dim and dark. He tried quickly to suppress his panic to avoid alarming her.

He'd done this for her once before as a surprise, the very first time they were together, so that it would be just the two of them, no Killiks. Then, he'd completed the suppression alone, waiting until he'd gotten over the sensory shock before finding her in her quarters. He'd remember forever that stunned look, that expression of absolute and honest love, when she'd first gazed into his eyes.

She was looking at him now, startled to see his eyes again, his light green irises replacing the usual darkness. In her mind he found her studying them, memorizing them, loving the way he looked at her. He bent down and gave her a kiss, in exchange for all that love.

Before she could voice the question he knew was forming, he reached over to the Gree device and switched on the two-way transmitter.

* * *

He was grateful for the link to her mind, as it helped to compensate for the loss of ability to read her through her scent and aura. He was getting a shower of varied emotions from her – surprise, understanding, anticipation, and then concern. "Vector," his agent said. "You don't have suppress the hive for me."

He nuzzled her hair, inhaling deeply so that he could get that scent of her in his nostrils again. It was strange to be without it. And as the Gree device did its work and she slowly connected to his mind, she was beginning to sense his discomfort, that reeling disorientation. Both her arms reached around him and she squeezed him tightly, giving him a physical anchor as his senses drifted.

"Vector," she repeated. "Bring the hive back."

"Agent, I don't want them to intrude." His diminished senses were slowly reorienting themselves around her – the feel of her, smell of her. He gave her an open-mouthed kiss on her shoulder so that he could still have her taste against his tongue. "When we're connected like this…they would have access to your mind, agent. I would not wish that upon you."

She sighed. "That's what I love about you, Vector," she told him. "Always so considerate…" And then she kissed him deeply, until they were both gasping. "But we're free. I'm free. And I have nothing to hide."

Vector stared at her in surprise. Reflexively he felt his senses reaching for her scent, her aura, to look for doubts and fears. Denied those avenues, he instead searched her feelings, and felt her steely, stubborn conviction. How he loved that Gree contraption, he thought distractedly. She heard that and laughed.

"Are you sure?" It would be sensory overload for her at the beginning. It had been that way for him, too, the first time he'd made the connection to the hive – he thought he'd go mad with it. He told that to her, showed it to her in his mind.

"Bring them back, Vector," she replied. "I know you'll take care of me."

He didn't know what to do, how to react, how to thank her, except by holding her close to him and letting her feel that tender swell of emotion within him – gratitude for her being there in his life, for her love. She had been this way, always – forever accepting of his alien thoughts and strange habits, forever encouraging him, forever defending him. In his mind he vowed to her that he would spend his life repaying that love.

"Close your eyes, agent. Don't move," he whispered. He tucked her body against him, his embrace reminding her that she would not be alone – not now, not ever. And he closed his eyes and concentrated.

The world suddenly returned to him. The buzz of the hive mind was there again, and the Song of the Universe resplendent around him, and the sounds and smells that had been denied to him for that brief period returned. He felt a swell of welcome and joy from the nest – and curiosity about the new consciousness that accompanied him. In his arms, the agent gasped in shock.

Through her mind, he could feel her reeling from it. The mind link allowed her to pick up all of his perceptions –the complexity of the scent of his skin and all the myriad elements clinging to it – the smoke from the fire, the traces of rain and moss from outside. There – she sensed his pheromones, and he couldn't hold back a satisfied smile as he felt her body's response to them.

Her ears were filled with the Song, the way he heard it – everywhere around them, in the drops of rain that fell outside their cave from the trees, to the indistinct sounds of the birds fluttering and calling in the sky. She was holding her breath as she heard their own smaller melodies – his song, and hers, how they contributed to the greater melody, and how they were in harmony with each other. He opened his eyes to gaze upon her.

And then she was seeing herself through his eyes – seeing her own electric aura for the first time.

"Is that…"

"That's you, agent," he answered. He leaned down and nuzzled at her lips, letting her feel how he perceived their soft texture. "How very lovely you are." A soft kiss, and their mouths opened to each other naturally, and she was shaking, exposed to his sensations, knowing now how deeply he tasted her each time. Vector slowly ran his fingers over her body, tracing delicate patterns along the sensitive hollows of her – the graceful dip of her collarbone, the valley between her breasts, the lovely indent of her navel. In her mind, he felt her shock and indecision – she wanted to reach out to him and stroke him, tease him like she always did, but she could barely move. It was all so much – the stimuli flooding her senses from her own body, and then his – was it always this way for him? she was wondering – and then her own again, amplified through his mind. As he caressed the swell of her breast, the way he knew she always liked, she made a soft cry and shivered. Dimly they both felt the hive's joy.

Her aura was shimmering like the sunlight over the ocean. "Look at you, agent," he said, "Look how you shine. When we see you like this, when we taste you and love you – that's how we know you." A hint of mischief warmed his smile as he stroked her body once again. "Now agent, look what happens when we do this…" His hand slipped under the hem of her shirt.

She cried out. "Vector," she whimpered. "Vector…it's so much…it's too much. I'm drowning."

He soothed her with a kiss, and she looked up at him. She looked so beautiful like that – completely open to him, eyes dark with passion, trusting and helpless in his arms – and he let her feel his love for her, how he'd cherish every moment with her like he did this one.

"We're here with you, beloved. Always." He resumed playing with her skin and she made that soft little sound again. "We'll go slowly. Hold onto us."

And she did.


End file.
